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Poster: Arbuthnot Date: Jun 15, 2009 6:20pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Le Mort joyeux

i never got the Baudelaire bug in my wandering days, but did pass through a period where i was reading lots of Rimbaud; from what the historians tell us, he was a bit of a jerk later in life, but in his youth, he burned quite brightly:

WANDERING
[translated by Paul Schmidt]

I ran away, hands stuck in pockets that seemed
All holes; my jacket was a holey ghost as well.
I followed you, Muse! Beneath your spell,
Oh, la, la, what glorious loves I dreamed!

I tore my shirt; I threw away my tie.
Dreamy Hop o' my Thumb, I made rhymes
As I ran. I slept out most of the time.
The stars above me rustled through the sky.

I heard them on the roadsides where I stopped
Those fine September nights, when the dew dropped
On my face and I licked it to get drunk.

I made up rhymes in dark and scary places,
And like a lyre I plucked the tired laces
Of my worn-out shoes, one foot beneath my heart.

Arthur Rimbaud (1854-91)

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Poster: Earl B. Powell Date: Jun 15, 2009 6:36pm
Forum: GratefulDead Subject: Re: Le Mort joyeux

Showed me pictures in the gallery
Showed me novels on the shelf
Put my hands across the table
Gave me knowledge of myself.
Showed me visions, showed me nightmares
Gave me dreams that never end
Showed me light out of the tunnel
When there was darkness all around instead.

Tore down a la rimbaud
And I wish my message would come
Tore down a la rimbaud, you know it's hard some time

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